Layers of a Day

"Leaves", 12" x 12" x 5", 2006, ceramic, earth

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The intensity of Â ‘disintegration’ Â around and in me is profound these days.

People are getting divorced, Â ill, Â angry, Â scared and numb.

The only sense I can make out of the whole thing is that every part of this earthly rearrangement we are in the middle of is helping us give up our addiction to comfort and begin to reacquaint ourselves with the power in EMPTINESS.

We, Â as humans and a community of cultures, Â need this rugged overhaul.

It feels bad. Â It’s inconvenient. Â It is scary. Â We’re all in the dark to some extent as our security reserves; Â whether they be physical strength or monetary or closely held beliefs or beloved jobs and homes Â are being challenged.

What used to work, Â doesn’t.

I keep using my own body as a petrie dish and watch to see what grows. Â Something exciting and terrifying is happening.

We all know that nothing new can happen unless the vase that is filled to the brim Â (investments, physical prowess, comfort of velcro-ed on beliefs) Â is emptied.

Then there is a period of drought. Â Yuk. Â We hate not being comfortable. Â I hate not being comfortable.

BUT THEN… Â then the vase begins to fill. Â Relationships are rearranged, Â abandoned or discovered. Â We barter for services. Â I see that my disabilities are not the death sentence I once felt they were but that my creativity is fuller, Â richer, Â wider than before my diagnosis.

We begin to make a difference instead of going after being different.

My own comfort is inextricably linked to yours.

I find out my neighbors name.

It is a horrible thing that humans don’t change unless we have to.

Now we have to. Â I have to.

I am just going to trust that everything is as it should be. Â Fighting it doesn’t work, Â anyway.

So, Â today, Â I’ll take a few energetic steps back and try to just witness the underlying perfectness unfolding and leave my judgement and complaints behind.